


It's Another Trapped in the Closet Story

by Distracteddiddlin



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: I don't know what tags are supposed to go on a 'they boned in the closet' story, M/M, Name-Calling, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Distracteddiddlin/pseuds/Distracteddiddlin
Summary: It's like almost midnight and I have work in the morning and this is like eight months old, just take it.





	It's Another Trapped in the Closet Story

Grif didn’t know exactly _how_ Tucker had managed to sway Kimball and Grey into letting him activate the temple. Possibly it had something to do with them owing the teams a few after the ass they’d kicked in the battle. More likely however it had something to do with  _both_  Grey and Tucker endlessly pestering Kimball about it, Grey for the scientific observations she could conduct regarding it, and Tucker for his usual reasons.

What was more worrying to Grif was now he didn’t know what he wanted to do to Tucker more in that moment, kick his ass.

Or thank him for the way Simmons was currently pressed against him, his breath hot against Grif’s neck as he let out needy sounds.

One might consider it a blessing they were in their civvies for once, and could  _actually_  feel each other. One might also consider it actually a very large downside because they were both very, very,  _very_  visible with their arousals.

While only 110 pounds when soaking wet, Simmons had easily pinned Grif against the hallway wall. Grif insisted he was cheating with cyborg strength, but one might consider that Grif wanted it that way.

Even so distracted by the overwhelming arousal, Grif couldn’t help but notice when Simmons began to falter. He flinched and batted Grif’s hand away as it began to slide his shirt up, exposing the smallest sliver of flesh possible as it did. Grif sighed deeply as Simmons fidgeted and tucked his shirt in almost comically far into his pants, before he grabbed the lanky cyborg’s hand and dragged him down the hall.

“He-HEY OW,  _what the hell do you think you’re doing, Grif?_ ” exclaimed Simmons, caught off-guard as he was suddenly dragged elsewhere.

“Finding somewhere secluded where we can actually get fucking  _laid_  in this place, or just jack-off, depends on how much you keep complaining,  _Simmons._ ”

The way he’d said Simmons’ name had been intended as an insult, a mockery, but between the two of them it sounded more like flirtation at its finest.

Three offices, a bathroom, and an invite to a future orgy in the cafeteria later, and they were both on the verge of giving up. Grif was seriously beginning to reevaluate his decisions in life, he  _never_  put this much effort into anything ever, and yet here he was, checking door after door for even a scrap of privacy for the two of them.

Simmons trailed Grif so closely, it would be more accurate to say he was practically riding his ass, hard, in several ways at once, as they searched.

Finally.

Finally it was like a miracle and a punishment from heaven occurred at the same exact time. By some stroke of luck they had found an unoccupied storage closet after what felt like hours of searching, when in reality it had only been fifteen minutes.

Simmons had managed to get inside without injury but Grif made the mistake of checking over his shoulder one last time. When asked what he had seen outside, he said he saw Sarge, Lopez, and a shotgun and refused to say anything further. Whether this was because he didn’t want to talk about it, or because he  _literally_ could not physically recall it, Simmons never found out for sure.

As soon as the door shut, Simmons was on Grif once more, pinning him against the door. Grif groaned as Simmons palmed him roughly, wondering for a fleeting moment where the hell the shy brownnoser he swore he’d dragged with him, had gone to. As quickly as the thought had entered his head, Simmons faltered again, as Grif’s hand had begun to push up his shirt again.

“Th-the door…” Simmons quietly stuttered out after a moment, blushing a deep red akin to his magenta armor.

Grif groaned loudly, sounding like he’d just been asked to solve all of the world’s problems for the sixth time, as he turned around in Simmons’ embrace to manhandle the doorknob. He fiddled with it until he heard a click, grind, and it stopped turning. “ _There. It’s locke-_ fuCK!” Grif swore in shock and surprise as he suddenly found himself pinned face-first against the door, his arms trapped against his chest.

Simmons fucking  _giggled_  at Grif’s attempts to right himself from this position, causing Grif to seriously reevaluate exactly why he loved Simmons so much. This pondering was cut _tragically_ short as Simmons rutted against his backside, his erection tracing up Grif’s spine through his shirt in a way that sent obscene shocks of pleasure straight to his currently-neglected dick.

The temple being activated, being pinned to the door, and the sound of Simmons’ needy noises in his ear made it hard for any coherent thought to survive in Grif’s head at that moment. Any coherent thought aside from ‘ _oh my god I just want to get off already,_ ’ and ‘ _why didn’t we do this before?_ ’ that is.

Seeking the pleasure that he felt he was being denied in his current position, Grif tried to jam his hand  _anywhere_  near his throbbing dick. Even if he  _had_  done any of the daily exercises they were supposed to do, he wouldn’t have been able to reach his crotch, this was how hard Simmons had pinned him to the supply closet door. Well, probably wouldn’t anyways.

“ _Hey kissass, you plan on touching me back sometime today?_ ” Grif taunted after a few minutes, still trying unsuccessfully to work his hand to where he could at least give  _himself_  relief; but to no avail.

“Patience,  _fatass_ ” Simmons whispered back, his hand wandering between Grif’s legs from behind to give him a teasing squeeze.

Grif’s cock gave a traitorously hard twitch at the insult. He knew he should be angry, or at least insulted. But, at this point their insults had become akin to pet names; and he took some solace in the fact he had felt Simmons himself twitch and press harder against him when Grif had called him ‘kissass’ as well.

Grif shivered when Simmons pushed up the back of his shirt, groping at the soft fat that were his sides. Simmons fucking  _hummed_  as he did this, somehow simultaneously too maddeningly domestic as well as absolutely soothing to Grif’s ears as he remained pinned to the door. At this Grif gathered his strength and managed to… barely move at all, rutting back almost pathetically lightly against Simmons. Despite this Simmons still faltered, moaning quietly as he leaned into it, loosening his grip as he did.

Grif saw the opportunity and took it, spinning himself around against Simmons, still pinned against the door but now facing the lanky nerd. Simmons scowled in response as Grif grinned triumphantly up at him, huffing in annoyance that Grif had escaped his teasing. He huffed in not-annoyance when Grif grabbed at the back of his neck and waist, pinning Simmons against him as he ground their erections against each other.

At this, Simmons lost what little control over the situation he had left, mindlessly pressing his cock, still trapped in his khaki shorts, against Grif’s, as he rut against him with stifled moans and groans of pleasure. Grif was faring no better, having already forgotten his plan to romance the fuck out of Simmons, instead opting to also just hump against each other.

Their hump-fest, rapidly approaching its peak, was cruelly brought to a screeching halt as they heard someone try to open the door. The intruder wrestled with the knob, knocked angrily at the wood, before swearing profusely and leaving to look elsewhere for an unlocked room. Simmons looked like he was going to pass out from mortification, and Grif still felt his heart beating painfully loudly in his ears as they both strained to listen to see if whoever had just tried to enter was about to return or not.

The mood having been murdered for the moment, meant they both had the time to catch their breath, though this was more in Grif’s case than Simmons. As they got their bearings again, Grif spotted something behind Simmons that gave him an idea, and it was not just because he was already tired of standing.

Simmons squawked in surprise as Grif grabbed his hand and dragged him around once more, this time to a box haphazardly left in the middle of the supply closet floor. Grif sat on the box, crushing the top more than a little, and pulled Simmons onto his lap, crushing the box a lot more than a little.

Simmons opened his mouth to berate Grif, and remind him that other people have to get at those cleaning supplies that were surely in there, but all that came out was a loud moan as Grif undid his fly, pulling out Simmons’ cock and giving him a firm stroke. His toes curled in his socks and sandals as Grif pawed at his dick, a small spot of drool leaking down his cheek as he lost himself in the sensation.

Through his mind was clouded by arousal, Grif could not stop himself from being Grif as he noticed it. “Wow Simmons, and here I thought  _I_  was the drooler here.”

Simmons  _froze_ , glaring down at Grif while managing to flush a deeper hue of red than he was already as he began to wipe it with a shaky fist. “Shut up asshole, you don’t see  _me_  bringing up how sweaty  **you**  a-“ Simmons began to needle back.

His retort was cut short as Grif reached up to wipe the rest of it away himself, before pulling Simmons back down towards him. “Never said I didn’t  _like it_ ” he replied, dragging the lanky nerd into a rough kiss.

Simmons was still reeling from it when Grif got another wicked idea, once again wrapping his thick fingers around Simmons cock, and leaning up to whisper in his ear. “You’re doing  _so good_ Simmons.”

Simmons’ response was favorable, and strong, his dick practically jumping in Grif’s hand at the praise. “ _What are you doing?_ ” He barely managed to stutter out after a minute of trying.

“Nothing” Grif replied, smiling possibly the least innocent smile in the history of mankind “I’m just telling you how  _great_  you’re doing right now.”

Simmons shuddered slightly, his hands grabbing roughly at Grif’s love-handles to support himself as he falls prey to Grif’s efforts.

Grif could only take so much of Simmons shuddering and shifting on his trapped cock, whimpering in his ear as he did so before it was too much. Grif grunted in direction as he gently shoved Simmons back so he could free his own member. Simmons whimpered, his face still flushed a deep crimson as he fidgeted more at the loss of friction, leaning back to give Grif more room to free his own dick with an obscene groan.

If either of them were interested in being coherent from then on, they were going to be sorely disappointed. The moment Grif grabbed both their cocks in his hand, was the moment Simmons rutted himself against him again, which was the moment they both lost control of the situation.

Grif maintained a deathgrip on their dicks, as if he was clinging to a liferaft and would drown at sea otherwise, as Simmons bounced like a man possessed on his lap, frantically seeking that wonderful friction in Grif’s grasp.

It felt like it was over as soon as it really began, neither thinking to try to prolong it, both driven by pent up lust and the urging to the alien temple to reach their peaks as soon as possible.

Simmons came first.

He was sure he’d never live it down that his stamina in  _any_  area was less than Grif’s, but Grif cheated, he’d insist. His hands were all over Simmons, as was his mouth, which he’d used to cheat most of all, moaning in his ear that he was “doing so goddamn good.”

But Grif wasn’t far behind. The sight, the sound, and sensation of Simmons coming undone on his lap did him in almost immediately, his own release splattering on Simmons’ shirt, something he was distantly aware would be a later source of complaint.

They regarded each other as they caught their breath, slowly coming to their senses as the afterglow began to fade.

Simmons disentangled first, scrambling off Grif’s lap with an awkward squawk. Grif had barely begun to register his absence when Simmons reached the door, rattling the knob loudly as he tried to flee in embarrassment.

“Come-  _on!_  You!- Fucking-  ** _Goddamn_**!  _Stupid door_!” Simmons panicked, trying to no avail to escape the now extremely mortifying storage closet. After 27 more attempts he finally gave up, whipping around to face the source of his rapidly growing embarrassment. “ ** _Grif_** _you idiot! You broke the door!_ ”

Grif was standing now, taking a minute to quietly regard the door, and the maroon-flushed nerd he’d been entwined with so recently. “So?”

“So?!? So we can’t get out! We’ll need someone else to fix it on the other side! And then-  ** _they’ll know what we did_** ” Simmons practically shrieked back, nervously raking his hands down his face.

“ _Calm down Simmons_ , we just tell them it was an accident and we were trying to keep as far away from Tucker as possible” Grif shrugged.

“ _I have cum on my shirt, you asshole!_ ”

“I don’t see how that’s  _my_  fault. You’re the one who refused to take it off-“

“ ** _GRIF!_** ”


End file.
